First Impressions
by Corazie
Summary: **Gen3** Drabbles about the new characters: Franky, Alo, Rich, Mini, Liv, Grace, Nick, Matty. But not in that order. Please review. *Complete*
1. Grace Violet

The series 5 characters have been introduced and oh my, I'm already in love. So, I guess it's time for some speculative fiction. Or rather, speculative drabbles.

**Amazing Grace**

Dainty feet in knee high grey socks slipped into neat black shoes, and a slender hand smoothed down the front of a blue-plaid skirt. The other hand reached for a brooch, shaped like an ornamental crown. The garnet in the brooch caught the light and for a minute Grace Violet stopped what she was doing and stared into the mirror in front of her.

The day had suddenly taken on a new significance. It was not just the last day of the school year at Mayberry... It was the first day of the rest of her life. This lazy summer day, this silent morning, was her last in this life and the first in the next.


	2. Mini McGuiness

The series 5 characters have been introduced and oh my, I'm already in love. So, I guess it's time for some speculative fiction. Or rather, speculative drabbles.

**Sweet Like Chocolate**

A mud-mask drying on her face, and a bottle of Evian making the journey backwards and forwards from the table to her mouth, Mini was happy with life. It was the first day of summer and for the next few weeks she'd be free. There was a holiday booked for mid-August, and her skin would be glowing when she started at college in September. Smiling, she drained the bottle and rinsed her face before smothering Clinique over the smooth skin.

Today was a dress and over-sized sunnies day. Maybe a large wicker tote for her necessities. And simple jewellery of course. Maybe a floral enamel bangle, a daisy-chin necklace. And lashings of Marc Jacobs spritzed over her perfect presentation.


	3. Olivia Malone

The series 5 characters have been introduced and oh my, I'm already in love. So, I guess it's time for some speculative fiction. Or rather, speculative drabbles.

**BOOM**

The place was dark, the only light coming from the bar at the back, where people jostled and pushed and elbowed five-deep for a drink. The atmosphere was electric as the beat started to pick up and the floor started to shake with hundreds of pounding feet. Cheap beer hit the floor in waves, cascading from the open bottles in the hands of those lost in the heavy bass. Light was bouncing off of the walls now, strobes of white and red and green and it was madness. Liv looked at the person in front of her, a stranger until this night, and winked. Together, dancing, they swallowed the pills and finished their drinks.

It was going to be a good night tonight, and the next if the reputation of these pills was to be believed.


	4. Franky Fitzgerald

150 individual hits and so few reviews? These drabbles are difficult, I have very little to go on.

**Picture**

Perfect. She stepped back and gazed at the print on the wall, a small hand on her narrow hip. A small smile crept onto her lips as she turned and crossed the room, stopping by a dark wooden occasion table under the window. The delicate net curtain danced slightly in a warm summer breeze and the sun cast a web of shadows and light over the floral tea set and silver tray.

A small hand reached for a small china teacup and Franky raised the steaming tea to her lips. Her eyes closed with pleasure as she sipped the fragrant Earl Grey.


	5. Aloysius Creevey

150 individual hits and so few reviews? These drabbles are difficult, I have very little to go on.

**Carte de Visite**

His eyes lingered on the full, un-corseted figure in the antique photograph. He loved these pictures. There was something erotic about Victorian bodies. Something deeply erotic about seeing the women of the past without their corsets and bustles, their hair loose around their shoulders. He liked the nipped in waists and wide hips, the sharp curve from the naval to the breasts. He liked the feel of the cards themselves, the quality.

Aloysius knew that the pictures hasn't been so erotic one hundred and fifty years ago, he'd studied history well. But he liked the illusion of the general consensus about the Victorians and their up-tight ways.


	6. Rich Hardbeck

150 individual hits and so few reviews? These drabbles are difficult, I have very little to go on.

**Guitar Solo**

His eyes were half closed. His head was bent forward, hair hanging in-front of him, over the guitar. His fingers moved fast.

He was lost in the music.

It was a long solo, and he'd been playing for hours already, one loud noise after another. His fingers were burning, blistered. Callouses had formed long ago, but sometimes his fingertips still bled. Especially when he was lost. And he often got lost in the distorted sounds from the amp at his side.

Rich wasn't actually angry, despite the angry-sounds that seeped from his room. He just liked the noise, the loudness.


	7. Nick Levan

150 individual hits and so few reviews? These drabbles are difficult, I have very little to go on.

**Scrum**

Even a dark bruise over his left cheekbone and eye couldn't spoil Nick's day today. They'd won, of course, and now he was in the rugby club with his team mates and he was seeing his Mini in just a few hours. A couple of celebratory pints; a loud song with the lads which was really incoherent shouting... Yes, that would make his day. His bruise would heal, and his muscles would feel like lead tomorrow, but he didn't care. He was high on winning and high on life and god... He was high on _love_. Love for everything. It could have been the pill he'd taken with his first lager, or it could be true. Either way, it felt amazing.


	8. Matty

Thank you to the (so far) 162 individual visitors who have read this and haven't reviewed. You've reminded me why I dislike this site. Thank you to the** 2** who have, it's nice to know someone appreciates my efforts. Realise that I am the only one to try and work with Gen3 so far.

**I-Spy**

He watched from the shadow of a shop door as people went about their way, walking between pubs and clubs and stumbling over cobbles. He always watched. Know thy enemy. Because anyone could be the enemy. He shuffled his feet. It was getting colder now, and he didn't have a jacked. The warmth of the day had seeped out of the earth and the harsh dark sky was pulsing with a deep chill. He stepped out into the moonlight and walked briskly to the nearest club. The bouncer nodded a greeting to the familiar face but the dark haired young man showed no recognition. No one knew his name, though there had been whispers among those whose minds he'd blown that it could be...

Matty handed over some coins, the exact money for his drink, and raised the glass to his lips. He't not said a word, just looked at the barmaid with his dark eyes. His gaze drifted around the room before coming to an abrupt halt. _Well_...


End file.
